Dear Diary,
Today I woke up exhausted. Not physically—emotionally. Because I was busy all night being an absolute legend in my dreams.
First, the squirrels.
Oh, the squirrels.
In my dream, I finally caught one. Just one. I didn’t even want to eat it. I just wanted to make intense eye contact and say, “Run your mouth now, tree rat.” It was glorious. I woke up with my legs twitching and my dignity fully intact.
Then came The Great Race™.
Willow thought she had it in the bag—long legs, boxer energy, all that confidence. But dream‑me? I was basically lightning with fur. I smoked her. Dust cloud. Slow‑motion finish. I turned around at the end and said nothing… because winners don’t bark.
After that, I was officially crowned Top Dog of the Household.
No paperwork, no meetings—just vibes. The cats bowed. The humans nodded respectfully. Willow accepted second place with grace (and denial). Arya tried to act like she was fine with it, which means she was absolutely not.
Speaking of cats—
I pulled on Ace’s tail. Just a little. As a reminder.
Then I stole the cat toys. All of them. Why do they get the crinkly stuff? I deserve enrichment too.
And finally… my finest work.
I silently bombed the house with the most rotten, soul‑crushing farts imaginable.
No sound. No warning. Just vibes and violence.
Naturally, I blamed Arya.
Everyone believed it.
They always believe it.
They said it was her “haunted heinie” again.
She looked confused.
I looked innocent.
Justice was served.
I woke up smiling.
Anyway, I’m very tired from being perfect all night, so I’m going back to sleep. If anyone needs me, I’ll be on the couch, guarding my dreams and absolutely not farting.
— Reggie 🐾